The Curious Case of Miranda Priestly
by Millie
Summary: Cassidy uncovers the truth as to why her mother's been so unhappy. Please R
1. Chapter 1

Exhibit 1

Caroline wanted to go to the park. Naturally I left my half finished math homework and slipped into my Uggs, pulling my wild red-hair into a ponytail. As I came downstairs, I found Caroline in the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry in search of a snack. "We have to go now, mom will be home soon." Caroline exclaimed, hearing me enter the kitchen.

"Did Kristin leave?" I asked, reaching into the refrigerator for some water. Kristin was our mother's new idea of a babysitter. We were old enough to handle ourselves, but mother had insisted we have her. She was quite pointless and we could easily get rid of her, and as such, it seemed that Caroline had already succeeded in doing just that.

"Yeah, she left a little while ago." Caroline closed the pantry and turned to face me. "Let's go."

I nodded, reaching for my Hermes scarf, wrapping it around my neck. It was chilly for the early autumn month, and as my sister and I stepped out into the city a slight breeze ruffled the end of my scarf. We headed towards the nearest subway, something our mother would never allow us to do, but something we quite enjoyed doing. We liked to be normal, like everyone else. And as soon as we swiped our cards and stepped through the gates, a train happened to arrive.

Stepping on, we found a seat towards the front of the car. I pulled my iPod out of my Prada bag, placing the earphone in my left ear, turning on my favorite song. "You'd better not get into any trouble." I whispered to my sister, rummaging through my bag for my camera.

"What are you talking about?" Caroline distractedly mumbled, mindlessly texting someone on her blackberry.

Finding my camera I flipped it on, checking to see if it had battery left. I had charged it the night before; of course there was battery left. Flipping it off, I turned to my sister. "Who, exactly, are you meeting at the park?" I frowned.

"Mark, Kati, and Isabel." Caroline grinned.

"Oh God," I breathed, watching as my sister fumbled through her slouchy Zambo and Siega bag.

"Well you didn't have to come," Caroline rolled her eyes and began responding to a new text message she just received.

I shrugged, "it's better than doing homework. And there's some pictures I need to take for my photography class." I sighed.

Caroline nodded. Soon enough we got off the subway and exited into the city. Crossing the street, we entered Central Park. I could see that the park was crowded with kids and parents; obviously the weather had not deterred their outdoor playtime. Several runners raced past us as we moved into the park. I followed Cassidy towards a wooded trail. Soon enough I could see Max and the other two girls. Max was demurely leaning against the rail of a bridge, inhaling on what could only be a joint. I thought he was stupid, but my sister seemed to be head over heels in love with him. She raced up to him and they exchanged a quick kiss, my sister taking the joint from him.

Kati, obviously already on her way to getting stoned, sauntered towards me. She looked cute in a nameless red dress and flat black ballet shoes, most likely from Chanel. She grinned when she reached me, "Hey Cassidy. I haven't seen you around for awhile. Want a hit?" She asked, taking the joint from my sister.

"No thanks." I shook my head. "I'm going to go shoot some pictures before the light changes." I excused myself from the group, but before I could get far, my sister's hand was on my shoulder.

"Don't go far; we have to get back home before seven." She warned and I just rolled my eyes.

"Don't get too high before we have to go home. I don't want to deal with mom freaking out." I shot back as I shrugged out of her grasp. She stuck her tongue out at me and moved back towards her group of friends as I moved towards the playground area, in search of something that could be used for my project. I was doing a whole layout on youth in the city, and what better place to find youth than on the playground.

I pulled my camera out of my bag, wrapping the strap around my neck. After turning it on and adjusting several settings, I snapped a couple of quick photos. I studied them for a moment, before deciding that they looked too dark. A couple more adjustments and pictures later and I was set. I bent down and snapped a picture that perfectly captured the shadows of children on the playground. From a different position I snapped a picture of the most adorable little boy, who had tottered over to a swing and was adamantly attempting to use it. He was, of course, too little to be able to get on the swing, let alone use it and I couldn't help but find him absolutely adorable. His dark curly hair filled his whole head and his chocolate brown eyes were enough to melt anyone.

I snapped another picture of him, but as I went to review it, I realized a female had entered the shot. A very familiar looking woman at that. I scrutinized the picture a moment longer, trying to figure out why or how I could possibly know this woman. Her dark brown hair hung loosely off to one side, and was tucked neatly behind her ear on the other. Her deep brown eyes were just as warm as the little boys and I could tell she was his mother. She had to be.

Glancing up, I realized she was picking him up. She sat down in the swing with him and pushed both herself and him off the ground and they began swinging together. She looked so happy, and he as well. He laughed and clapped his hands as she whispered to him, her lips wide in a smile. They looked adorable together and I couldn't help but feel a bit envious of their bond.

My own mother would never have swung with me. In fact my first memories of swinging involved my sister and our nanny. My mother was too busy; she worked all of the time to keep _Runway_ running. And while I was glad, at times, to have her as my mother, to be in the limelight, and to constantly be showered with name brand clothes and accessories, there was still something hollow about it. I loved my mother, don't be mistaken. She was, well could be, a lovely woman. But she wasn't always there.

And as I reminisced, my eyes still fixed on the young boy and his mother; I realized brown eyes had somehow met mine. A small smile crept across the woman's lips. A familiar smile. Who was this woman? Why did I know her?

I watched as she slowed the swing down and, once it was close to the ground, she hoped off. The boy in her arms looked worried at first, and then began laughing, excited to have jumped with his mother. After a quick kissing and tickle session, he wiggled out of her arms and she watched as he toddled away…away towards me.

She watched him as he came closer. He wasn't focused on me, but she was.

"Don't I know you?" I heard myself mutter before I could stop myself.

The brunette studied me and nodded. "Aren't you Miranda Priestly's daughter? Cassidy?" She replied, catching up to her son, grabbing his hand before he could wonder off.

"Yes, how did you…did you work for her?"

The woman nodded, "Andy. I'm Andy Sachs. I worked for her about three years ago."

"Ah, yeah. Andy. I remember you." I grinned. No wonder why she looked so familiar. "You're the one who got us those Harry Potter books."

Andy laughed and nodded, "yeah. That was…wow…"

"I'm sure it was hell." I laughed, knowing that my mother was not an easy person to work for. I would and should know, for I lived with her. Every day.

"It wasn't so horrible." Andy stated, and I immediately raised an eyebrow. As I studied her closer I realized she looked, under her grin, a bit sad. Almost as if she missed _Runway_. I watched as she looked down at her son, who was trying to get away from her grasp. She bent over and pulled him up into her arms.

"Who is this?" I asked, meeting his gorgeous brown eyes. He laughed and grinned at me before turning to bury his face in his mother's shoulder.

"This is Max." Andy smiled, looking down at her son who had suddenly decided to become shy.

"Hey Max." I smiled, reaching out to tickle his back. He laughed and turned to study me once more. I grinned at him.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Andy studying me. She looked quite intrigued, perhaps a bit star struck, by my presence. Her eyes looked as if they were wishful, reflective perhaps. She seemed, empty almost. Her next question, however, surprised me. "How's Miranda?"

"Mom?" I was surprised that one of her past employees would even care. Andy nodded. Were her cheeks flushing? "She's doing all right. I think she's going to Los Angeles next week for an opening of some kind."

"Wow, she's always going, isn't she?" Andy shook her head in awe. Max was trying to get down, but Andy was not focused on him. She appeared to be thrilled to be talking about my mom, distracted by her.

"Yes, she is." I nodded.

"I can hardly keep up with him; I can't even imagine what she did when you and your sister were born."

"She hired a nanny." I laughed and Andy seemed to snap out of her dreamy reverence of my mother.

"Ah, of course she did." Andy nodded, her attention shyly shifting back to her son.

"Well, hey, do you mind if I shoot some pictures of you and Max. For a project?" I quickly inquired, knowing that no other little child had caught my attention and Max was too adorable to pass up.

Andy laughed, surprised by the sudden question. She messed with her bangs, suddenly feeing self-conscious about her appearance. "Oh, um…"

"Don't worry, you look fine." I laughed.

"Well…fine. Why not." She shrugged, letting Max twist out of her arms. He raced off on wobbly little legs. Andy immediately turned and followed after him and I happily snapped several shots of them. Andy's long brunette hair trailed behind her as she carelessly chased Max around, picking him up when he stumbled, helping him go down the slide. By the time I got to the maximum amount of pictures that my memory card could hold, I had already taken plenty of pictures of the happy mother and son.

I moved towards Andy, placing my camera back into my bag. "Thank you, so much."

"Sure," Andy grinned, pulling Max up into her arms. "Hey, do you think you could send me a couple of those? I always forget to bring my camera to the park."

"Of course, what's your e-mail?" I asked, pulling my blackberry out.

She gave it to me and then grinned. "Say hi to your mother for me. Though I'm sure she's already forgotten all about me."

"I will, and I'm sure she hasn't forgotten you." I laughed, briefly recalling two years ago when my mother had lost Andy as an assistant. She'd been rather, well…distant. And perhaps broken. Wow, I hadn't thought about that in a long time. Clearly Andy had left some impact on her. "I'll get these pictures to you as soon as I upload them." I quickly added before she thought I'd lost my train of thought.

"Thank you." Andy smiled.

"Anytime." I grinned.

And with that I turned to go off and find my sister. I had to drag her away from her friends, warning her that mom would be home before we got back. She quickly dropped her cigarette and followed behind me, pouty because she didn't want to leave.

We climbed back onto the subway; Caroline scooted close to me and rested her head on my shoulder. I turned on my camera and began flipping through pictures. Caroline yawned and then glanced down at the screen. "Did you get any good shots?"

I nodded yes as I flipped a picture on the screen so that it was oriented in the right direction.

"Wait…who is that?" Her finger came to rest on my digital camera's screen and I quickly swatted her hand away, realizing she'd been pointing at Andy.

"Andy Sachs; remember she used to work for mom." I carelessly stated, flipping through the pictures, righting another one.

"Oh my God, Andy? I actually remember her." Caroline stole the camera from me, noticing the little boy in the pictures for the first time. "Who is that?"

"Her son." I said, taking my camera back, flipping it off.

"He looks like he's about three, I didn't know she was pregnant when she was working for mom." Caroline sighed. "I didn't even know she had a boyfriend."

"Well apparently she was, and apparently she did." I sighed, pulling out my iPod to drown out my sister.

TBC...Review por favor :D and disclaimer: I don't own any of these Characters except Max...oh and Caroline's friends...


	2. Chapter 2

Exhibit 2

We made it back to the townhouse minutes before mom's town car pulled up to the curb. My sister raced up the stairs to hop in a shower, and I returned to my math homework, pretending as if I'd never left it. I waited, for whenever my mother got home, she would come upstairs to grace us with her presence before she retreated to her room to freshen up for dinner (if she was staying in that night).

It was no surprise when I heard the inevitable click of her heels on the hardwood floor outside my room. I quieted the blaring music on my Mac and turned just as she stepped into my room. Her musky, floral smelling aroma hit me before I could even see her fully, and when she came to a stop in front of my bookshelf she gave me an interesting, albeit forced smile.

"Please tell me I did not see you and your sister scampering out from the subway stop and to the front door moments before I got here." She calmly stated, her eyes surveying my rather clean room, giving it her silent approval as her cool blue eyes came back to rest on mine.

"No, that was not us, mom." I lied, knowing she knew.

"So where is it that you ventured off to tonight?" She inquired, taking a seat on my bed, slipping out of her heels. She looked rather nonplussed about the whole situation, clearly tired from another day at _Runway_. I was beginning to believe her job was wearing her down.

"We went to the park. I had to take some pictures…" my voice trailed off, but slowly came back as my mother looked away from me. "I had to take pictures for the journal at school and I asked Caroline to come along with me. And we didn't want to bother any of the drivers and cars, so we thought it would be easier to take the subway. I'm sorry we didn't call." I added for good measure.

"I expect to see these pictures. Tonight. After dinner." My mother instructed, standing up, her bare feet looking rather strange with her well put together ensemble. Only I could see Miranda Priestly in this way, and I quite enjoyed having her as a mom, even if she was rough at times.

I nodded to her back as she walked out of my room.

"And tell your sister that I will be looking through her purse, so anything she doesn't want me to find should be stored away and never seen again." And with that, mother was heading back downstairs, back to her room.

She knew; she always knew everything.

As I listened to her bare feet descending the stairs, I reached for my camera and hooked the cord into my Mac. I wondered if I should forget the pictures of Andy and her son Max. It seemed rather risky to show them to my mother, I didn't know how she'd feel about seeing Andy, especially Andy with her son. A son my mother didn't know she had. Not that it entirely mattered; why should my mom care about Andy and her son?

Deciding that I should include one, for she probably wouldn't even notice anyway, I plugged in my computer and watched as all 163 pictures uploaded. I hadn't realized I'd taken so many, and as I began browsing through them I realized over 100 of them were of Andy, or her son. Feeling a bit like a pedophile, I selected all the pictures of the trees and scenery, and other children who weren't Max, and then carefully selected which pictures of Max were suitable and then one that was of Andy and Max. It was shot from the side, only Andy's profile was discernable, she was hardly recognizable.

Before I could do anything else, I quickly pulled out Andy's e-mail address and began attaching the pictures I'd taken of her and her son in an e-mail to her. After writing a quick note that basically said 'thank you for letting me photograph you and your son', I moved back to the photos I'd chosen for my mother's viewing.

I printed off the 80 pictures that met my criteria and then jumped at the sound of my sister's voice.

"Hey, dinner's ready."

I nodded, grabbed the pictures, and headed down the stairs behind her.

We entered the dining room and took our usual seats on either side of our mom, who was already seated and flipping through an issue of _Glamour_. She looked rather perplexed, stressed out. As we sat down at the table, she took off her glasses and rubbed at her temples.

I watched my mom, concerned, for everyday she seemed a little more unhappy. I hated when she looked this way. As she sipped her wine, her eyes met mine and she raised an eyebrow. "What?" She demanded as she took the glass away from her lips.

"Nothing," I stuttered, sticking the photos on the table next to the plate that had just been sat in front of me by our personal chef, Manuela. She smiled at us before disappearing into the kitchen again.

"I received a rather interesting phone call from Ann French Emonts today." My mother announced as she cut into her grilled salmon. I shifted the green salad around on my plate, glancing up to see what this 'interesting phone call' had been about. "She's looking for some twins to do a holiday photo shoot for her little boutique _Darling_ and thought you two might be interested."

"We haven't done modeling in ages." Caroline exclaimed, rather perplexed by the idea.

"Well, that's what I told her. But my daughter's don't disappoint." Mom tilted her head to the side and glanced towards me before sipping her wine again.

"Of course not." I smiled at her. "I think it would be fun."

"Yeah, fun to have our faces plastered all over that place." Caroline scoffed.

"It could be fun, and we'd get more free clothes." I added, sipping my water.

I saw a slight curl of my mother's lip as she stabbed into her green beans. She had found my comment amusing. I smiled inwardly and cut off a piece of salmon.

After dinner my mother sat back in her chair. Caroline was dismissed from the table to go finish homework with a promise that mom would be up later to talk with her. I could only guess what my mother was going to talk to her about…and I knew it wouldn't end well.

Mom unclasped her fingers and extended her hand towards me. I indulged her and handed over the photos. She placed her glasses on the bridge of her nose and cleared her throat before studying each photograph meticulously. With practiced eyes she surveyed each, taking in the lighting, the balance, the subject of each print. When she reached the bottom of the pile, where I had placed the pictures of Max, her motion stilled. It was as if she knew who the kid was. I glanced over as she regarded a photo for too long, and then she quickly moved to the next one. "What is it?" I asked, not sure what had captured her attention.

"It's nothing," she was lying, "it's just…" she flipped pictures again, "his eyes…" There was no more to her sentence. She had arrived at the picture of Andy and her son. She knew. Of course she did. "Why in the world is she in this picture? Is she a babysitter now? I thought she got a job at _The Mirror_." My mother was practically mumbling to herself.

"That's her son." I pointed to the little boy, whose eyes had captured my mother's attention.

"I could…yes, thank you for clarifying." My mother's sarcasm was less than humorous. I sat back in my seat, hating when she snapped at me like that. She glanced up at me, her eyes still burning. "Where are the rest?"

"What?" How had she … "I didn't think you'd want to look at all of them."

My mother regarded the picture once more before her head started moving, slowly at first, up and down, eyes transfixed on the photo. "All right, go." She shooed me away. I wasn't getting my pictures back.

~*~

I had ballet the following night. After a grueling two hour practice my feet were blistery and tired from point. As I slipped out of my shoes and tossed them into my bag, I noticed my friend Graham was still working hard on the bar. He was new, having just arrived in New York all the way from Florida. It was just him and his mother. He didn't have many friends, but I'd immediately taken him on.

His muscles flexed as his knees bent, heels coming off the floor with what looked to be ease.

I came around and stood in front of him, watching as he rose up to his tiptoes, his eyes closed in complete concentration. As soon as his feet leveled off his eyes opened and looked straight into mine. "Hey." He half-heartedly smiled.

"Hey," I smiled back. "Class is over, if you didn't already notice."

He grinned and walked with me over to where his bag was sitting. "I know, it's just my mom is going to be late picking me up, so I didn't think I should hurry." He shrugged, sitting down on the ground.

"Well, I'm sure my driver could take you home, if you wanted…" but Graham shook his head.

"No, I'll wait for her." He gave me a quick smile. "It's the only time we get to see each other, really. And she has another weekend shift so she won't be around."

"I'm sorry, Graham." I lamely muttered, knowing I couldn't soothe his lack of time with his mother. "If it makes you feel any better, my mom is hardly ever around. I doubt she even realized tonight was ballet."

"Your mom is fabulous. It's different." He grinned.

"Oh, that reminds me!" I quickly turned to my bag and extracted a copy of the newest _Runway_. As I handed it over, Graham squealed with girlish delight. He quickly flipped through the pages, happening to open to the Editor's choice section. The same section I'd had my mom sign for him.

"OH MY GOD! Cassidy!"

I grinned. "Well it'll give you something to do while you wait for your mom." I shrugged, completely not expecting the huge hug he bestowed upon me. "Hey, why don't you come over this weekend? I think my mom is going out on Saturday night."

"All right, I will."

"Cool, I'll text you later." I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and just as I headed away, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. A text. From Roy. He was picking me up tonight. I texted back quickly and then raced out of the studio and into the back of my mother's town car. The same car she was still occupying.

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd pick you up." She leaned over and kissed my cheek.

"So you did remember I had ballet tonight." I smiled.

"Yes, of course darling." She smiled. Her eyes fixed on the city outside her window. She looked…well rather satisfied. Not her normal tired, distraught, over-worked self.

"Is something happening tonight that I forgot?" I wondered aloud, thinking that I had perhaps forgotten her birthday, or an important dinner we were all supposed to attend.

"Hmm?" She turned towards me and then shook her head, as if she were coming out of a dreamy reverie. "No, nothing's happening this evening."

"Oh." I shrugged and sunk back into my seat.

And suddenly I began to suspect that something was happening with my mother. Something was going on that was occupying her thoughts, causing her to act almost happy, content with her life.

Glancing over at her, I studied her stolid expression, noting her slightly curved lips. Whatever she was thinking about, it was making her quite content. I much preferred my mom this way over her when she was pissed off.

Settling back, I enjoyed my quiet ride home with my content mother.

~*~

That night, after finishing an essay I'd been writing for weeks, I decided to take a break and grab a cup of tea. It was late, and as I passed my mother's study, I noticed her light was still on. She was still awake, still tending to 'the book'. Her precious 'book' was the center of her evenings more often than not. It was usually her 'book' that she fell asleep to and the 'book' that she woke up to. Her life was rather bland, I mused, as I quietly shuffled past her study's double doors.

I had mastered getting around the entrance quietly years before. After getting caught one too many times, I had perfected moving silently. I knew exactly where the squeaky floorboards were, and I knew exactly how to maneuver around and get to the stairs. I didn't exactly fear her finding me out in the hall; I just hated disrupting her from her work.

After making a quick cup of Peppermint tea, I quietly ascended the stairs. However, as I neared my mother's study, I heard her speaking. Her voice was low, quiet as always. But it sounded more passionate, more caring…which was quite strange.

Coming to a stop right outside her doors, I narrowed in on what she was saying.

"…lunch?...Just a lunch date. That's all we need….no, we need to discuss…but I haven't…honestly…no, no. We will have lunch on Monday. Yes, Monday…that is all…No, no excuses."

I heard the click of the phone and frowned. My mother never demanded lunch meetings. She usually had people come to her, invite her. This was definitely quite odd. Something was not right.

Stilling my rapidly beating heart, and steadying the teacup in my hand, I regained my composure and made it silently back across the hall to my bedroom. Once inside I collapsed on my bed and inhaled deeply. Something was up with my mother…but what?

TBC...comments are greatly appreciated. :D


	3. Chapter 3

Exhibit 3

"Mom's been acting weird lately." I noted, sitting on my bed, which was currently occupied by my sister and Graham.

Mom had left about an hour prior. I'd watched as she'd gotten ready, looking rather distracted and slightly irritated as she'd stepped into a Valentino made specifically for her. It fit her body like a glove and she looked absolutely gorgeous in it.

However, when her 'date' arrived, she had looked less than enthusiastic about leaving with him. She had plastered on a clearly fake smile as he'd leaned in to kiss her, her head tilting just in time so that his lips collided with her cheek instead of her lips. He seemed momentarily thrown off, but quickly recuperated and pulled out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. Freesias. Mother hated Freesias.

I took them for her, kissed her goodbye, and then watched as she left with this man who was clearly not suited for her.

She looked miserable.

Well he clearly wasn't the one occupying her content thoughts. I wondered why she continued to accept these date proposals when it was clear she wasn't interested in any of these men. Perhaps she needed some…well I'd rather not think about it…but it would make sense. However, it was quite sad that my mom had given in to sleeping with people who did nothing for her.

It had been three years. Three years since she'd looked happy going out on a date. I just assumed that after her divorce from Stephen she'd given up hope of ever finding someone.

But that desperate phone conversation the night before last was uncharacteristic. There had to be more to her lack of enthusiasm towards the men she was currently 'dating'.

As I sat on my bed with my friend and sister, rubbing my bed spread through my fingers, my sister frowned at me. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know; she just…doesn't seem happy." I shrugged.

Graham perked up and glanced over at me. "What are you saying? Miranda Priestly is unhappy? How is that even possible? Did you see that dress she was wearing when she left? She looked so good. And that man on her arm wasn't so bad either."

I laughed at Graham's external examination of my mother and shook my head. "She always looks good, but clothes don't make a person happy." I sighed, "it was her eyes. She just looked so…sad."

"Well, maybe work is getting to her." Caroline wasn't really paying attention anymore. She could care less if our mother was distraught.

"No, it's not that." I shook my head.

"What do you think it is?" Graham asked, clearly interested in my mother's woes. To him she was a goddess and she could do no wrong. And to hear that she could feel and have emotion was almost beyond his comprehension.

"I'm not sure." I looked up at him and frowned.

"We should go explore!" He suggested.

"What? She'd kill us." Caroline's head shot up from her phone, which she was rapidly texting on.

I thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. "Well she's at the opera; she won't be home for another three hours or so…" I looked at Graham and shrugged.

"But what if we find something gross…" Caroline crinkled up her nose.

"Oh come on," I grabbed her arm and the three of us raced towards my mother's office. It looked completely untouched. Everything was in order except for a pile of papers on the edge of her desk and her laptop, which was open, but locked. I had no idea what her password was, and I knew I shouldn't try. She would definitely know we'd been snooping.

Graham was careful not to touch anything as he made his way around the room. I examined the desk, slowly opening drawers, and not touching anything unless it looked of interest. As I opened the large drawer directly under the middle of the desk, I found the stack of photos I'd taken. I thumbed quickly through them, realizing the very last one, the one of Andy and Max, was missing. I frowned and turned to my sister.

"There's a picture missing from the pictures I took at the park."

"So?" Caroline brushed past me.

"So…it's the one of Andy and her son." I explained.

"Well…what does that mean? Maybe she threw it away. I thought she hated Andy…especially after Paris." Caroline shrugged, gently moving books on the bookcase that lined the wall behind our mom's desk.

"Mom doesn't hate her." I silently mumbled, thumbing through the pictures one more time before placing them back in the desk.

"How do you know?" Caroline mindlessly asked.

"Because…" I could only think of the night I'd showed her the pictures and how she'd looked contemplative when she'd run across the picture of Andy. "I don't know. I just don't think she hates her."

Caroline shook her head and walked away. "I don't know what we're going to find. There's nothing in here. And she keeps her planner at work."

"Let's go to her bedroom!" Graham announced, clearly excited to get into her closet and thumb through the millions, even billions of dollars worth of clothes.

I laughed. "All right."

We raced off down the stairs to her bedroom. I usually was only in her room when she was in her room, so it was odd to have my mother absent. Graham stood shell shocked on the cusp of her closet. "Well go on." I pushed him, laughing, and he gasped like a girl and stepped in. "Just don't touch anything." I warned and he nearly began shaking. I laughed again, and then moved to where my sister was thumbing through the bedside table drawer.

"Ohh…look what I found." Caroline extracted a pack of cigarettes. "I thought she quit."

"I think she's been smoking since the divorce." I shrugged, having caught my mother on more than one occasion. Caroline moved to take one, but I stopped her. "Don't; she'll know." I took it from her and put it back.

And as I did so, I realized there was a loose photo lying face down in the drawer.

"Cass, she won't notice if I take just-"

"Caroline. There's a picture in there." I pointed, my fingers itching to pick it up, to see if it was the missing picture of Andy and her son.

"What?" Caroline frowned, turning to see the picture I was pointing at. "Well, pick it up."

I did so, but as I turned it over I realized it was an old picture of Caroline and me.

"I told you. She threw it away." Caroline huffed. "I'm going to the kitchen to get some food. You'd better go check on Graham. I think he's lost in mom's scarf drawer." She mumbled as she walked away from me, our dog Patricia, having found us sometime earlier, scampered off behind her, seeming to sense she was headed towards the kitchen.

I sighed and set the picture back in the drawer, closing it silently.

I was convinced that mom had not thrown that picture away, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Rescuing Graham from my mother's massive closet, we headed back to my room, defeated.

~*~

I was awake when my mother returned that night. She smelled of cigarettes and champagne when she peered into my bedroom. It was clear that she had been drinking that evening, but she looked less than cheerful as she glanced in on me. Graham was passed out on my couch, the TV was on, and I was in bed flipping through the latest issue of French _Runway_, my finger's trailing through Patricia's fur.

I turned to look at my mother and she gave me a weary smile. "Why are you still awake?"

"I don't know." I shrugged, closing my magazine and setting it and my reading glasses on the bedside table.

"Well you should go to bed." She was attempting to sound mean, but it was failing because she was too tired to even add an edge to her voice.

She looked exhausted and a bit distant. I wanted to ask her what was going on, what was on her mind, but I knew she wouldn't comply, so I let it go. I passed it off as she was merely tired and ready to go to bed.

And so I nodded and reached my arms out for her, as I had when I was younger, and she automatically came to me without thinking. She wrapped her arms tightly around me and kissed my cheek. "Goodnight, darling." And while she was near my bed, she grabbed the TV remote and flipped it off. I grinned at her and watched as she left my room.

I fell asleep sometime after that.

~*~

Monday came all too quickly. I was sleepier than usual as I sat through all of my classes. The professors seemed to drawn on about nothing of importance. I was glad that there were not any exams, for if there had been, I wouldn't have remembered a thing. I was thankful when the last class ended and the bell rang, dismissing us from school. I was excited when I stepped through the main doors of the school; a slight wind caught my hair and tousled it. I pulled on my slouchy white hat and glanced around for my sister.

She was nowhere to be seen.

I huffed and crossed my arms, scanning the long line of black town cars, searching for our car. Usually Frank picked us up, but as I looked, I noticed that Roy was here. We had our mother's car.

Just as I exchanged a quick wave with him, my sister caught up to me. She smelled of cigarettes. "Mom's going to kill you if you keep this up."

"She won't kill me if she doesn't find out." Caroline whispered back, greeting Roy with a smile.

"Hello girls," Roy greeted us, opening the back door of our mother's car.

"Hi Roy," we greeted almost simultaneously.

I slid across the seat, pushing some stray magazines over as I went. My mother was constantly surrounded by magazines and newspapers and publications. As I settled into my seat and buckled my seatbelt, I noticed that the car smelled vaguely of cigarettes and my mother's perfume. She had clearly been in the car earlier that day, and she'd clearly been having a bad day.

I reached down, placing my hand on the empty space between my sister and I. Staring out at the passing city, I felt something beneath my hand. It felt like beads, perhaps a necklace. My fingers locked around it and I looked down at the lost piece of jewelry.

It was a bracelet. Clearly cheap, the metallic surface was chipping in places and it looked like it was well worn. Perhaps a faux designer piece, it wasn't completely hideous, but it couldn't have cost more than six dollars.

Where had it come from? My mother most certainly did not wear it, so perhaps it was one of her assistants?

But she would never let her assistant wear _this_.

I let my fingers rub against the plastic, wondering who it belonged to and why it had been left in the back of my mother's car.

I was glad when my sister didn't notice it, and I quickly pocketed the bracelet.

More evidence that something weird was going on with my mother.

TBC...review s'il vous plait.


	4. Chapter 4

Exhibit 4

At dinner that evening, I twirled the bracelet around in my pocket, feeling the fake plastic beneath my fingers. Our dinner was not my favorite; grilled chicken with a side of mashed-potatoes, green beans, and some steamed carrots. I was distracted by thoughts of where the bracelet could possibly have come from, when my mother's voice cut through my deliberation.

"I'm leaving for Los Angeles tomorrow. The trip was pushed up." She seemingly stated absentmindedly, as if we should know that she would already be leaving the following day.

I knew she had pushed the date up. I knew she thought something was horribly wrong with the shoot, and she wanted to get there to fire some models and a couple of designers until she had it her way. But I did not mention it. I only felt a slight bit of anger well up inside of me, for she always did this. She always left.

"Kristin will be here, and I will not be back in time to see you off to your father's on Friday evening." She attempted to sound regretful, but instead it came off as a bit too relieved.

My sister groaned on the other side of the table. "I don't want Kristin to stay here." She half-mumbled under her breath, but my mother heard, as she always did.

"Caroline Paige van Ziegler," my mother's icy tone sent shivers down my spine. "Kristin will be staying here. Let's not forget what happened the last time I was only going to be away a couple of days and Kristin was not here," my mother tilted her head as if recalling those horrendous two days. They had been disastrous. My sister had decided to sneak out and had subsequently ended up in jail for being linked to a robbery. My mother had swooped in and had kept it from going public, but my sister was beginning to earn a reputation. One my mother was not very proud of. "And that will not happen again, or I will seriously look in to that boarding school in France."

Caroline huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She hated our mother most of the time.

But I knew my mother was just trying to protect her, keep her on the straight and narrow path. She didn't want either of her children to be failures, or rather, to let her down. We were her pride and joy, though she had trouble vocalizing that to us. But deep down we knew.

Or at least I knew.

"What is that?" I heard my mother's voice slice through the air, and I realized she was addressing me.

"What?" I quickly glanced at her, surprise etched in my voice, having been taken off guard.

I followed her line of vision, and found that her eyes were firmly planted on the bracelet I had unconsciously extracted from my pocket.

"Oh," I clamped my hand over it and shrugged, "it's nothing."

"Give it to me." My mother's even tone returned, her hand extending for the bracelet.

"Why?" I gathered the courage to look up at her again.

"Because…" she barely hesitated, her eyes did not lose their intensity, but I could tell she was coming up with a faux excuse. "I don't have to come up with an excuse for you, give it to me." Her words were icily precise. I found myself handing the cheap, scratched bracelet over to her and she quickly examined it. Realizing she had sounded as if she were over-reacting, she tried to explain herself, but it sounded rather unconvincing. "My assistant lost a bracelet today."

I, amused, nodded and turned back to my food. Something very strange had gotten in to my mother.

Why in the world did she care about that hideous bracelet?

And then suddenly it hit me like a ton of bricks. A quick recollection of a past event that had to have happened nights ago. Words, my mother had been talking on the phone…I'd overheard…

"_We will have lunch on Monday."_

A lunch…she'd had a lunch today. A lunch that had ended in the backseat of her car?

"I would also like to remind you that your shoot for _Darling_ will be next Wednesday. I've already contacted Dalton and they know that you will not be in class that morning." She once again bared my train of thought with her words. I was immediately thrown off by this announcement. I hadn't known the shoot would happen so soon. What if I had a test next Wednesday?

"A morning shoot?" Caroline groaned.

"Yes, you both will be awake by six and there by seven thirty. I will come and check on you around noon and you will be the wonderful girls I know you are." She gave us a half-hearted, rather disdainful looking smile and we both nodded. "And I wouldn't hesitate to start using our private gym some more, I'm sure I can get Bradley to make you both some light workouts to help tone you up before next Wednesday." She added, eyeing both of us with that critical fashion eye she had sworn was only for work, but it had somehow become part of our home life as well.

I glanced down at my slender frame and wondered if my mother wanted me to become anorexic. I couldn't see that anything else needed to be lost, ballet kept me quite in shape. But I would oblige my mother, I would allow Bradley, her personal trainer, to give me a workout and I would do it for the week.

By the time the meal was finished, Caroline quickly stormed off, thoroughly pissed at our mom. My mother sat, sipping her wine, consumed once more by an Italian magazine that I hadn't caught the name of. I knew she was skimming pictures; she was always looking for something new to bring to America, feature in an American magazine. She liked to look at layouts, color schemes, mood schemes, anything that would give her ideas for her next magazine.

I realized I'd been studying her, and when I looked up, I met her eyes.

She gave me a rather blank expression and I took it as her having nothing to say. I gave her a slight, scared smile and then excused myself from the table. Just as I was about to leave the room, her voice caught me.

"Thank you for finding this bracelet. It, apparently, means a great deal to my assistant." I could sense she was looking at it again, for I heard her mumble under her breath, "though I have no idea why."

I turned to her and smiled. "You're welcome." And before I could walk away again, I went to my mother and I wrapped my arms around her. At first she tensed up, not accustom to such random displays of affection, but soon she awkwardly wrapped her arm around me. "I'll miss you this week." I blurted out, feeling like a silly little five-year-old again.

She didn't respond at first. Instead I felt her nodding against my shoulder. When words came, they seemed forced and almost unsure, "I'm sure you will be just fine with Kristin." She didn't know how to show motherly love. She had no idea. And I suppose it shouldn't have bothered me as much as it did, for it couldn't really be helped. She had never had a mother; and thus, she had never known the love of a mother.

I stepped away and nodded. "I will."

"Oh and Cassidy," I half expected her to say _I love you_ or _I'll miss you, too_, but instead she pointedly added, "keep an eye on your sister."

I nodded again and she knew I'd keep my word. And with that I turned to go, slightly disappointed by my mother's lack of mothering skill.

~*~

That night I fell asleep surrounded by copies of official government documents that pertained to the Cold War. I had an essay exam that Friday and I knew I had to do these readings. I suppose I'd dosed off during a reading about American safety during the time, for I had an unpleasant dream about a bomb threat and my sister, Andy Sachs (completely random), and my mother all had to go down to our secret underground house that was completely safe from nuclear bombs. It looked almost exactly like our home in Connecticut, only the walls were all cement and the décor looked hard and uncomfortable.

We'd had to pile into a small room, what looked like it could, perhaps, be a bathroom, and we waited for a bomb to go off.

Instead of a bomb, I heard a distant alarm sound.

Before I knew it, my eyes flashed open and I had to cup my hand over my mouth before I screamed.

It took several minutes to realize that we were, in fact, not being bombed by the Soviet Union, nor did we have a bomb shelter, and also that it was five in the morning. I shifted in my bed, willing myself to go back to sleep. I didn't want to be awake so early. I had at least another good hour and thirty minutes before I had to be up for school.

But just as I began dozing off again, I heard the light patter of heels clicking up the stairs.

Mom was awake.

I listened, with my eyes closed, as I heard her attempting to quiet her heels on the floor outside my room. I heard my door slowly open and I could feel the presence of my mother in my room, her perfume invading my senses.

I felt her hovering over my bed, and I willed myself to look as if I were asleep.

This was new; I didn't know she did this. Had she always come into my room before she left early in the morning?

And then to add even more of a surprise to this already surprising moment, she leaned down and kissed my cheek, her manicured fingernails whisking a stray strand of red hair out of my face.

Then she said the three words I had begun to think she'd forgotten how to say, "I love you."

I tried to keep the grin from settling on my face, and so I feigned discomfort in my position and rolled over so that my face was well hidden in the pillow and blankets.

She took this as her time to leave, and I heard the soft click of heels moving out of my room and up the stairs to my sister's bedroom.

Completely taken aback, I'm not sure if I ever fell back to sleep that morning.

~*~

That night after a grueling two hour ballet practice, followed by a quick strengthening workout in our gym down in the basement of our townhome, I took a nice long shower. The day had been crazy, but I'd happily gone through it, my mother's morning words having stuck with me all day.

I only wished she could be there this evening.

But instead of our mother seated at the dinner table, it was Kristin. She'd even claimed mom's chair. I frowned at the idea of her occupying my mother's seat and turned away from her in disgust. Dinner was quiet except for some light twin chatter that perhaps made no sense to anyone except me and Caroline. We had mastered the art of talking without making sense to others, and it drove our mother crazy and made Kristin quite flustered.

Dinner that night went by very quickly, and neither of us lingered at the table for too long. I was up and about as soon as my plate was cleared. I thought I could hear Kristin calling after me, but I feigned homework, and raced up to my room.

I pulled out my French _Runway_ and flipped it open to the page I had left off on. It was always good to keep up on my French. I never knew when mom would announce a trip over to Paris, and those Parisians were picky about their French. Kristin had been hired based on her refined French skills. She had been an au pair in France up until my mother hired her.

Thus, it was quite a match, in my mother's mind at least, that Kristin become our "babysitter". But personally I couldn't stand her and I knew my sister didn't like her any better.

Speaking of my sister, I heard the soft click of a window and I knew she was heading out for the night. She had mastered this strange climb down and up the side of our townhome. Using fire escapes on buildings down the block, she was able to sneak out rather easily.

And as I thought about her sneaking away, I sure hoped she'd locked her bedroom door because I did not feel like covering for her tonight.

And luckily Kristin took it as Caroline was asleep and so after getting no response from my sister, she came to say good night to me, warning me to go to bed because I had school tomorrow. I rolled my eyes at her and nodded. But just as I began sleepily heading towards the bathroom to brush my teeth, I heard my phone vibrating against the wood of my desk.

I quickly lunged at the phone, realizing, as my fingers gripped the cool plastic surface, that it was my mother calling. It was almost eleven. She never called me this late. Though she usually called at some point when she got to her travel destination, so I didn't find it that odd. That was until I heard her on the other end of the line.

She sounded distracted and breathless. Her voice was lower than usual.

"I have not been able to stop thinking about you all day. Could you not hear the phone ringing? Are you that incompetent?" My mother was in a foul mood, not what I had expected from her, not today. The day she had sweetly whispered _I love you_ to me before leaving me for an entire week. With my sister. And Kristin.

"Sorry," I weakly apologized, hoping my mother would soon realize whom she was talking to.

"Cassidy?" She had clearly called the wrong number. "Oh…how was your day, bubsy?" She had asked without missing a beat, as if she hadn't just called the wrong number, and hadn't been caught off guard. And she actually sounded genuine, like she cared.

"Long. I'm exhausted." I sighed, settling on the edge of my bed, my toothbrush in hand with toothpaste already on the bristled end.

"As was mine and as am I." My mother sympathized for a moment.

"How was your flight?" I asked, feeling odd, knowing that my mother had meant to call someone else. Who could she be calling that she'd been _thinking about all day_?

"Very long and uncomfortable." She answered, annoyance creeping back into her voice and I knew she wanted to call whomever she had meant to call in the first place. Though I wasn't sure I wanted to let her, and I was very tempted to ask her whom she had meant to call, but… "You should go to bed, darling. You have school tomorrow and mommy has to go help the helpless fashion disasters in Los Angeles so I must go to bed too."

"All right," I hoped the disappointment didn't show in my voice. "Good night, mom."

"Good night, Cassidy."

I heard a quick click on the other line and I knew she'd hung up as fast as she could. And just as I began brushing my teeth, while plugging my phone into its charger, I realized that my mother was not about to go to bed at all.

California was three hours behind New York.

It was only 8:00 there.

She had lied.

And in actuality, as I thought about it, she never slept.

What was going on? Why had she lied? And who had she been thinking about? All day?

I sighed and spat my mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.

What the hell was she doing?


	5. Chapter 5

Exhibit 5

A couple of days and several normal phone calls from my mother later, and it was Friday.

I was excited when our driver dropped us off at the townhouse after school. Another week finished and a weekend in Connecticut to look forward to.

I raced to my room, double checking the packing I had done the night before. Realizing I had thoroughly packed, I sat down at my desk and clicked on my Mac. I hadn't had a moment to check my e-mail all week, and so when I did I was surprised to find several Facebook updates, a message from my father, several chain messages from my bored grandmother in New Jersey, and then one message from an e-mail I was not familiar with, but which looked oddly recognizable.

I clicked on it first and immediately realized who it was from.

Cassidy-

Thank you so much for the pictures. They are wonderful; you have quite a gift for photography.

-Andy & Max

As I scrolled down the e-mail, noticing my pictures had reattached, I looked at them once more. As I studied Andy's elated face as she played with her son, I noticed something shiny that caught my attention.

Was that a shiny bracelet around her wrist…

"Cassidy, the cars here." My sister interrupted my thoughts.

I quickly pulled my laptop into my bag and raced down the stairs after my sister, unable to shake the feeling that I had seen that bracelet before…

~*~

Anything was better than Kristin, and so when the car arrived to pick us up - twenty minutes later than our dad was supposed to pick us up - we were equally relieved. I could speak for both of us, however, by saying that we hadn't been this excited to leave for our father's since we were perhaps six and the whole divorce process had just gone underway between our mother and he.

It had been, perhaps, the messiest divorce our mother had undergone because of us. My mother had fought tooth and nail to gain almost full custody of my sister and me. I don't remember much of the divorce, but I do remember the tumultuous relationship.

In front of us, they were amiable. There were only little arguments. From what I can remember, for I was five at the time, my father would usually disapprove of something my mother wore or did. And he would nag at her for the smallest things. He was ten years her senior and he acted the superior in every way; and he'd made my mom feel inferior, which she had hated. My mother never liked to feel second-rate to anyone.

Thus, behind the scenes, behind the van Ziegler and Priestly façade, they were a horrible couple. I remember one night in particular that stood out among the others.

I had heard them bickering on the first floor balcony.

Climbing out of bed, I had crept to the banister. Laying flat on my stomach, I peered over the edge, my head resting between two white posts. I could vaguely make out my father. His back was turned to me and he was yelling, yelling about things I couldn't even begin to comprehend. He was hovering above my mother, his balding head a sad sight as he raised his voice, verbally backing my mother into a wall.

She had come into view, and I had caught a glimpse of her face. It was so sad, white, drained and devoid of anything, any emotion. I wasn't entirely sure, but as she glanced away from my father I could have sworn I could have seen tears swimming in the corner of her eyes. She fought back, however. Her voice only slightly rose from its normal soft tone as she defended herself.

When I glanced up, I found my sister at my side. She sleepily rubbed her eyes and we exchanged a weary look at one another. She crawled next to me and peered down, watching as our father more violently threatened my mother, and she more violently fought back.

The only actual words I remember from that night were when my dad announced he was leaving.

"No," he aggressively moved my mother's hand away from his arm, where it was clenching on to him for dear life. She didn't want him to go. "I'm leaving, Miranda." And with that he'd turned to go and my mother had attempted to grab him, desperately as he went, but he'd just kept walking and she had just kept grasping empty air.

We could hear his footsteps moving heavily down the stairs, the click of a lock, and the opening and closing of the door.

We watched, mortified, as our mother crumbled to the ground. She appeared to wither, like a dying flower.

I had had the nerve to fly down the stairs, not at all liking the image of my mother on the ground, consumed by tears. She had just looked so…not like my mother.

I had reached her, and I had touched her, and she had recoiled from me and I had whimpered, tears forming in my own eyes.

When she realized I was standing beside her, my sister close behind, she sat up and wiped at her eyes. She hadn't wanted to be seen like this, not by us.

I had watched as she looked mortified at us. She had been so confused, so hurt. Our mother appeared to not know what to do and that made her even more frustrated. She let out a strangled sob, and, knowing we weren't about to leave her, she reached out her arms for us.

We went to her and wrapped our arms around her and she had held us as she cried.

That was one of the only times we had ever been allowed to sleep with her. We had all cuddled that night in her huge bed, our mother glad to have us near her.

That was the only time I had ever seen her that broken. She usually never cried in front of us; in fact I wasn't even sure she cried at all anymore.

The other divorces she had just shut herself off to her husband's when she had known the relationship was going south. It had been quite sad to see her pull away.

Regardless, the divorce from our father was horrible. My mother had had to really fight to keep us, and she had gained almost complete custody. We only had to go to our dad's every other weekend. And usually it wasn't even that often.

Most of the time "something" would come up at the last minute, and we would be forced to stay the weekend with our mom. Though I couldn't really complain. Going to dad's wasn't any worse or any better than being at mom's.

They were both so distant.

Take for instance right now. Dad didn't even come to pick us up. He had had his driver come and get us.

We would have to make the two hour trip to Connecticut without our father, or his trophy wife, Carrie, to entertain us.

Not that we'd want them to anyway.

~*~

An hour into the ride, I felt my phone ringing.

Pulling it out, I realized it was mom.

"Bubsy?" She inquired when I picked up. At least she'd gotten the right person, I'd been weary that she'd make the same mistake as she had earlier in the week, but so far she'd gotten it right every time she'd called.

"Yes, mom." I answered. Caroline peered over at me, pausing the movie she'd been watching on her iPod, knowing it was our mom on the phone.

"Did your father pick you up on time?" She asked, ever the concerned parent.

"Well…he didn't exactly pick us up, but his driver did."

"So very like him." She sighed. I could hear her irritation at him in her voice.

"Yes," I agreed. "But at least he didn't cancel like last time."

"True_. _But, I don't like you two driving all the way to Connecticut without him in the car with you. Who knows what kind of record your father's driver has." She was getting more and more on edge by the minute.

"Mother, his driver has never been anything but sweet to us. We're fine." I quickly pacified her increasing foul mood.

"Well I will still be having a word with him." She decisively stated.

"Are you coming home tonight?" I asked, trying to veer her off topic. My sister was motioning for me to let her hear what was happening, and so I flipped on the speakerphone.

"No, I won't be back until Sunday evening." She sniffed.

"I wish we were home." Caroline entered the conversation.

"Why is that, bubsy?" Our mother asked, daring to sound bored by the fact she was talking to her daughter's.

"I don't want to go to dad's and Kati's birthday party is tomorrow night." Caroline groaned.

"Well, it is unfortunate that you have to, by law, go to your father's-when he decides he wants you-" this part was said nearly under her breath, but we heard, "but rules are rules and we must not break them. Right, darlings?"

"Right." We chorused, sadly, together.

"Well, girls, I must be going. I have a dinner this evening with photographers from Australia. They would like to host a shoot for _Runway_, though I doubt they'll have good enough ideas for the magazine." She blandly stated. My mother was so hard to please! I was glad I was her daughter and not a business colleague.

"All right, good night, mom." We once again spoke together and our mother let out an amused 'hmm'.

"Good night, darlings."

And with that she hung up.

We still had forty-five minutes of the trip left.

~*~

And when we arrived at la mansion in Connecticut, daddy was missing and Carrie was lounging in the dining room with a martini and her little purse dog, Paris.

"Hello, girls." She gushed and gave us air kisses. We politely returned them, but soon found a way to escape her presence. But before we could go rush to our rooms, she stopped us. "Have you two eaten?"

"Yes."

"No."

We'd spoken at the same time, and unfortunately not in unison. I elbowed my sister and she nodded, "Yes, we have."

"Oh, all right. Well run along then." She appeared to toast us with her martini glass and I raised my eyebrow. A bored look appeared on her face as she sipped the alcohol and watched us walk away.

We were so going to have to find a way to prank her later.

We separated ways at the top of the stairs and I bounded down the hall to my deep purple room. It was huge, bigger than my room in New York. It had a canopy bed and a huge area rug that gave the room a regal look.

I tossed my Juicy Couture duffel bag onto the bed and pulled out my Mac. Flipping it open, I browsed through my iTunes library until I found a song I wanted to listen to. While it played in the background, I realized my sister had entered my room and had found water balloons.

"Oh no," my eyes widened.

"Oh yes." She grinned and tossed a balloon up in the air, catching it as it came back down. "If we throw them from the balcony she'll never know what hit her."

My smile spread across my whole face and through boughts of laughter we made our way to the balcony. It overlooked the dining room, where Carrie sat, along with the living room and part of our father's study.

With practiced precision, and good hand-eye coordination from years of playing softball, my sister tossed one water balloon right after another and they ALL hit the target.

Carrie screamed, but was too occupied to figure out where the balloons were coming from.

We quickly raced off, back to my room and quietly shut and locked the door behind us. We fell onto the bed, unable to hold back our laughter.

Oh how we loved Carrie.

In no time she was pounding on our door, shouting obscenities at us, threatening that if we didn't open the door and apologize she would call our father and have him take us back to New York.

I snorted at that, for he would never drive us all the way back to New York. There was no chance of that happening. Plus, if he was "working" he wouldn't be reachable.

We rode out her empty threats, unable to take any of them seriously, and burst into laughter every time she came up with a new one, even more preposterous than the one before. She soon left and our laughter subsided. We lay back in my huge, king sized bed and flipped on the TV.

"Hey," my sister questioned, reaching for the remote, "why did you say we'd eaten dinner?" She flipped the channel, trying to find something interesting to watch.

"Because, we're going to sneak down later and eat whatever we want. Duh." I mindlessly reminded her.

"Oh, right." She nodded, finding a show we both agreed upon.

~*~

Our dad did not return home until we were fast asleep.

He didn't come in to say 'good night' or acknowledge our presence, as far as I knew.

Instead, we woke up to him already absent.

Carrie was in the kitchen, already with martini in hand and Paris in the other. "Morning girls." Her tone was disdainful; she was weary of us already. I inwardly smiled. "Your father will be back soon. He's gone to check on his restaurant and he wants to take you to Boston with him tonight for dinner."

Caroline and I exchanged a perturbed glance at one another and then frowned at Carrie. "Why?" We asked, accidentally in unison.

"I have no idea."

~*~

And then we were in the car. With our father. Who instead of talking to us felt the need to talk on his phone the entire way to Boston.

We were going to his restaurant. He, apparently, had some business to take care of, and he'd thought we could 'bond' while he worked.

Though his idea of bonding was ignoring us as we drove for a good hour.

I studied the side of his face from my seat in the back of his Jaguar. He looked so much older than he had years ago. His hair was graying and almost gone. He had dark sunglasses on, shielding his bloodshot, tired eyes. He looked larger than he had, as if he'd gained weight.

And it was then that I realized I was glad my mother had not stayed with this man.

I had no idea what had attracted her to him in the first place.

When we, finally, arrived at the restaurant-_Pomodoro_ (named after the Italian word for 'tomato')-our father acknowledged us.

"I have a table waiting for you. I'll be in the back conference room if you need me, but I would like for you two to not interrupt me. And please behave yourselves. That stunt you pulled last night on Carrie was very immature, and I expect more out of both of you." He didn't even look at us as he chastised us. "You can order whatever you like, it's on the house. I should be done in an hour." And with that he got out of the car and began heading towards the restaurant.

Caroline and I exchanged a perturbed look at one another and then scrambled to follow him before he could lock us in.

We made it to the large oak front door of the restaurant and stepped inside. The hostess seemed to know who we were and immediately led us to a table towards the back. We were slightly hidden from the rest of the restaurant, and were surrounded by beautiful indoor plants that made it feel like we were in a dimly lit jungle. The inside of my father's restaurant was beautiful. The creaky oak floors seemed to add to the atmosphere and the wooden tables supplemented the décor of the space.

I had never been to the restaurant in Boston, but I could very well say it was my favorite.

"Well, what should we order, if we can order whatever we want?" Caroline hummed, head already buried in the menu.

I glanced down at my own menu and was in awe at the very high cost of each dish. "I say we order the most expensive thing on the menu."

Caroline grinned and I copied the infectious, evil smile.

In no time the waitress had brought us water and a hors d'oeuvre.

I glanced around the room, sipping my water, when I happened to spot someone who looked very, very familiar sitting several tables away.

I wasn't entirely sure, but it looked like it might be…

TBC....review s'il vous plait. :D


	6. Chapter 6

Exhibit 6

"Is that Andy over there? With that little curly haired boy?" I inquired, slyly pointing in the direction of the silky, long-haired brunette.

"Um…" It took Caroline several minutes to realize where I was pointing, but once her eyes landed on the woman she nearly jumped in her seat. "Oh my God, it is!"

"Are you sure?" I frowned. "Why is she here? In Boston?"

"I have no idea." Caroline shrugged, and then turned back to me. "Wanna find out?"

"No," I knew that gleam in my sister's eye all too well. But before I could protest further, she was out of her seat and across the room in a second. I watched from my spot at the table as Andy looked up from the coloring book she'd been coloring in with her son to find my sister hovering over her.

I rolled my eyes and quickly darted up and over to my sister's side. "Hey," I shyly smiled at Andy. It really was Andy.

"Hi, Cassidy." She smiled at me, and then seemed to glance behind my sister and me, as if she were looking for someone else. "Is your mother with you?" She asked, quickly trying to act as if she hadn't been looking for her.

"No, she's in LA." Caroline explained, giving in to her urge to touch Max's crazy curly hair. He grinned up at her and extended a crayon in her direction.

Andy laughed, "I think he wants you to color with him."

"Oh, do you, Max?" Caroline grinned and leant over to color in a heart. When she was finished Max clapped his hands together and tried to hand her another crayon.

"I don't think Caroline wants to color anymore." Andy quickly adverted Max's attention away from making my sister color.

I laughed, and then, noticing that Andy was looking at her son, studied her face. She seemed…empty, perhaps disappointed. Had she wanted to see my mother here?

"So why are you here?" I asked, catching her attention.

"Oh," she seemed caught off-guard. "Well, Max's father, Nate, works here as the Assistant Head Chef." She announced proudly, and it was then that I noticed the gorgeous silver-band around her left-hand ring-finger.

"Oh, I didn't know you were married." I casually stated.

But Andy was quick to right my wrong statement. "No, no…we're not married. Yet." She nervously twirled the ring around her finger.

"Oh…" I looked at her again. She had so quickly denied the possibility of marriage to this man whom had, clearly, been around for the past three years. I wondered why they were even still toying with the idea of a marriage.

"Well I mean, we plan on it eventually, but…I mean he lives here for now, so…" she was trying to cover for herself, but it wasn't working.

"No, I see…" I nodded.

And as if the situation couldn't become more awkward, I felt a presence behind me and turned to find an attractive young man with curly brown hair that matched Max's and I knew that this man was Nate.

"Hello, baby," he swooped down to press a kiss to Andy's cheek and I could see her visibly wince at the contact. No, she was definitely not in love with this man.

"Hey, Nate." She quickly replaced her grimace with a smile and turned to us.

As Nate ran his hands through his son's hair, pulling him up into his arms, he turned to look from Andy to us, seemingly inquiring who we were with his eyes.

"Oh, this is Caroline and this is Cassidy." She pointed as she introduced. I was, and had always been, in awe of her ability to tell Caroline and me apart. Only our mother seemed to be able to do that, or had been the only one until Andy had entered the picture as our mother's assistant. She had taken it to heart that she must know everyone.

"Hello," Nate stuck out his large, strong hand for us to shake. "Nice to meet you."

We mumbled our 'hello's' back at him.

"So how is it that you know these two lovely ladies?" Nate looked rather skeptically from us to Andy.

"I um…" Andy didn't look like she wanted to say how she knew us. And I assumed that my mother had done some damage to their relationship if Andy had been with this Nate fellow while working at Runway. I was also certain that she did not want to link us to our mother, and so I cut in.

"We're Richard van Ziegler's daughters." I announced, glancing over at Andy briefly enough to see the surprise and confusion spread across her face.

"As in the Richard van Ziegler? The man who owns this restaurant?" Nate could not believe it.

Caroline and I nodded.

"Wow," Nate looked surprised.

As did Andy. She looked quite confused, as if Nate should recognize us for being Miranda Priestly's daughter's, not his boss'.

"Yeah, we just noticed how incredibly cute your son was, and had to stop by and say 'hi'." Caroline picked up on the game and joined in. I was relieved.

"Oh, well thanks." Nate grinned down at his son. "Say 'hi' to your dad for me." He set his son down and then kissed Andy, awkwardly, again before announcing he had to get back to the kitchen.

Andy was looking right at me as soon as he parted. "I was going to tell him who you really were." She shrugged, sipping her water.

"It's all right. We really are Richard's daughters." Caroline grinned.

"Oh," Andy's eyebrows rose. "Well…I still…I mean…"

"I'm sure he hated us for making you do all of our school projects and stuff back when you worked for mom, so I figured we'd start anew." I reassured her.

She nodded, a small smile appearing on her lips. "Well, thank you."

"No problem." Caroline shrugged.

My sister gave me a weird look and I smiled sweetly at Andy, "well nice to see you, again. Have a good night."

"All right, you too. Oh, and Cassidy," she quickly grabbed my attention before my sister and I could make our escape. "Thank you for the pictures. They really were wonderful."

I smiled again, "you're welcome." And as I turned and walked away, I noticed a sad expression settle on her perfectly beautiful face.

Why was she so discontent with her life? She had a kid, a fiancé…what more could she possibly want?

~*~

After our strange encounter with Andy Sachs, we had a fabulous meal, followed by a long, quiet ride back to Connecticut.

Once safely back inside my room, I fell peacefully to sleep, glad that the following day was Sunday. Mom would be home, and so would we.

I always looked forward to my mother's return. Even if she wasn't the easiest person to deal with, there was something about her presence that put me at ease…just having her near was a comfort and I hated when she went away on long weekends or even weeks, like this. I felt almost empty without her around. Dad's house was odd without her presence. I supposed that was why I never really liked going with him. Mom wasn't here.

And so I was more than ready to load up once again and head back to New York on Sunday afternoon. I had missed Patricia and I missed my mom and I missed my house and my bed. I secretly hoped that we wouldn't have to go back to our dad's anytime soon.

And when we finally arrived back home, our mother was still absent. She had left a message saying something about a delayed plane. She had sounded agitated; I was glad I hadn't answered her phone call.

So my sister and I allowed Manuela to make us dinner, and we retreated to the media room for some Sunday night television watching.

I had no idea how many hours passed before my mother finally arrived home.

We could hear her even footsteps walking up the stairs, to her bedroom. She clearly needed some alone time before she could 'deal' with us.

She, after a short time, appeared in the media rooms' doorway. She looked refreshed, her hair damp from a quick shower, her clothes comfortable cashmeres. We raced to her, wrapping our arms around our travel-weary mother. She returned the hug and then happily took a seat on the couch between us, Patricia curling up at her feet.

"How was your father's?" She questioned, her fingers lazily stroking my long auburn hair.

"BORING." Carline and I replied simultaneously.

A bemused smile fell upon my mother's lips and she sighed, "well LA wasn't much better, I assure you."

"Oh, you'll never guess who we saw last night!" Caroline exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

Oh, no. She was going to bring up…

"Andy Sachs." Caroline yelled out before I could stop her, or my mother could even try and guess (not that she would have, but it would have been nice if she'd at least said something to stall my sister from mentioning the one person who I knew my mother didn't want to hear about. Not right now).

I watched as my mother's expression very skillfully did not change. But I saw a quick gleam in her eyes; she looked, if only for a split second, caught off-guard by the name drop. But she so quickly straightened herself out that it was not noticeable to Caroline. "You did, did you?" But it wasn't a question; she was trying to end this conversation before it began.

"She was with her son, Max. He is adorable. Isn't he, Cassidy?" Caroline was going too far.

I nodded. "Yes," I squeaked out, "very cute."

My mother shot me a quick glance.

"And her fiancé works for dad's restaurant. His name's Nate." Caroline had gone too far.

My mother hummed. She was not taking all of this information very well, in fact, if I was studying her correctly, she looked angry, upset, and…jealous?

"But they've been engaged for like three years. Who does that?" Caroline was speaking absently now, not even thinking about her words. Instead she was flipping channels on the television.

My mother appeared to be considering this information she was given. Though something told me that she already knew all of this… and for however jealous or whatever she appeared to be, she simply nodded as if she had known all along.

Caroline turned to my mother, clearly waiting for a response.

My mother actually looked flustered by this and quickly responded, "Clearly Andrea does. Now why, in the world, do you think I care about all of this?" The way my mother caressed the name Andrea drove me insane. Was it absolutely necessary to over-enunciate such a common name to make it sound uncommon?

Caroline shrugged, "I don't know. I just thought it was weird that we ran into your old assistant." And then Caroline was lost to the television once again and my mother didn't respond.

Her body, which was closely pressed to mine, had tensed up considerably since the conversation began. She stared straight ahead at the TV, but I knew she wasn't watching.

Why had she gotten so worked up about her past employee? Did she really hate her that much?


	7. Chapter 7

Exhibit 7

I was the first one awake and out of bed that Monday morning. To my surprise I had awaken an hour before my alarm clock was set to go off. And no matter how hard I tried, I could not get back to sleep.

Unhappily, I stumbled out of my warm bed and into the bathroom. Perhaps I would sneak down and see if the latest issue of _Teen Vogue_ had arrived. I had heard, through the rumor mill at school, that Caroline and I had gotten ourselves in the latest issue for attending a huge bash several weekends back for Miley Cyrus. Our outfits had topped the charts and there had been a little exposé written about the 'van Ziegler twin's' and of course our outfits were linked to our mother, the ever elusive, fashion icon herself: Miranda Priestly.

So I quietly crept down the stairs, past my mother's bedroom, where I could hear the running water of her morning shower humming, and down to the main level. I glanced at the front door, noticing a pile of mail beneath the mail slot in the door. I saw, immediately, the magazine; it was hard to miss with its bright pink font and colorful photos splashed on the front page.

I moved towards the pile and reached for it, when I noticed that there was a newspaper trapped between the rest of the envelopes and various other, foreign magazines. Picking up _Teen Vogue_, I moved the envelopes to the side and found the paper was _The New York Mirror_.

That was not at all the paper I had envisioned my mother subscribing too; and didn't she have all of her news subscriptions sent to the office?

Skimming over the front page, I realized it was a hard-hitting, seemingly liberal type of publication, complete with pictures of criminals, the president, crime scenes, etc.

As I glanced at it a name popped out at me.

There, under a little front page blurb about the new reform on carbon emissions in the city, was the all too familiar name and seemingly familiar picture to accompany it.

_Andrea Sachs_.

My mother was secretly subscribing to a newspaper that Andy wrote for?

I heard footsteps on the stairs and immediately gathered the mail up, standing up just in time for my mother's heels to stop their clicking down the carpeted stairs. She had paused, mid-adjusting her shirt sleeve, and was staring at me as if she couldn't quite comprehend why I was there.

"You're awake early." She mused, quickly snapping out of it and continuing her steady walk down the stairs, and straight to me. She took the mail from my hands, leaving me with my _Teen Vogue_, and headed towards the kitchen.

I scampered behind her and watched as she tossed the mail on the clean countertop, opening the refrigerator door to try and find some milk for the coffee Manuela had already made.

I crawled up into a barstool and opened _Teen Vogue_. "I couldn't go back to sleep." I muttered, my voice tired.

My mother raised her eyebrows as she poured a slight bit of milk into her cup of coffee, her eyes not leaving the white liquid as she vaguely acknowledged my presence. It would appear we were both tired.

"Are you going to be home tonight?" I asked her, shifting through page after page, looking for the section on Miley's big New York bash.

"Hmm..." my mother uttered through a mouthful of coffee. "I have a, uh, dinner...function this evening. I might be home for a minute before, but I doubt you'll see me afterwards."

I nodded, my eyes coming to rest on the fabulous Betsey Johnson clad Caroline and I at the huge teen event. I quickly scanned the little snippet below the picture and, just as I had guessed, it mentioned my mother and her success as a fashion icon. _Luckily, it's rubbed off on her girls._

I grinned and turned it over for my mother to look. She glanced up from whatever she had been reading and her eyes traveled over the page I extended to her. As she looked, I notice a small smile creep across her red-tinted lips.

I happened to glance down and I noticed that my mother's finger was lingering on the very article I had found so interesting in _The New York Mirror_ earlier this morning. The one written by Andy Sachs. Mom was reading it...that very article...

"That is wonderful, Cassidy." She smiled and sipped her coffee, my eyes quickly flashing up to see the momentary pride cross behind her icy blue eyes. "I'm glad you two ended up choosing those Johnson dresses. I absolutely detested those Armani outfits. They were horrendous."

I grinned, slightly, at my mother's disapproval of the designers, who would burst to tears, no doubt, if she was ever to say such a thing in public.

However, I was distracted by my mother reading Andy's article. I was confused and concerned about her reaction to my sister bringing up our mother's old assistant the night before. Carefully, I decided to work in a question or two of my own.

"What are you reading?" I asked, attempting to sound nonplussed, as if I hadn't noticed it was Andy's article.

"What does it look like I'm reading, Cassidy?" She mindlessly replied.

Well this wasn't getting anywhere. "Is that Andy?" I couldn't resist; my finger shot out to point at the picture of the woman.

My mother actually, visibly, squirmed for a moment, but quickly masked it with a slight cough. "Oh," she held the paper up closer to her and attempted to look as if she were examining the picture, as if she had only just seen it for the first time. And perhaps she had, but I had a feeling she had known all along that it was Andy's article and that Andy wrote for _The New York Mirror_. I was quite certain that was exactly why she had this subscription.

I had known it. My mother didn't hate Andy at all.

But what was it about the very mention of Andy that drove my mother crazy?

Could it be...

"I had no idea; well her writings not as horrible as it used to be." My mother mumbled, setting the newspaper down and quickly checked through the rest of the mail, as if looking for a distraction.

"Mom," she had piqued my curiosity and I needed a better answer than that.

She half-glanced up at me, acting enthralled by a phone bill.

"How come you subscribe to the newspaper Andy writes for?"

She attempted to look unmoved by my question, buying herself time by studying the bill, but she knew she would have to answer. "I...want to keep tabs on my old employees. I can't have any one of them making me look bad."

_Wrong_.

But I could tell she was getting flustered and I knew one more question would push her over her edge and she would be yelling at me. So I let it drop.

There was _so_ something going on.

And I was going to figure it out.

~*~

My morning conversation with my mother lingered like a bad taste in my mouth through the rest of the day. She had mentioned a dinner, function, of which I figured was business related. True to her word she came home long enough to slip into a nice, functional Vera Wang dress in a deep shade of green that had been delivered at the house literally seconds before she stepped in the front door.

She barely had time to talk to either my sister or I. We watched her run from her closet to the bathroom, to her closet again until she looked impeccable.

We figured it was an event; albeit, not an overly dressy event.

She looked as if she was going out to dinner with someone, but no date came to pick her up. She left of her own accord, whisked away in the backseat of her town car.

I didn't expect her back till late that evening, but I was shocked and surprised that by nearly one that morning she had still not returned.

The next morning, when I awoke - oddly early once again - I realized she had not come home at all the night before.

I discovered this when I went trapezing down the stairs, unable to fall back to sleep even though I was exhausted. I headed towards the kitchen, deciding that if I was up, I was up. I peered into the refrigerator, knowing that Manuela wouldn't be here for at least another thirty minutes.

I poured myself a bowl of cereal and some grape juice, and settled on the barstool, flipping on the TV for company.

Imagine my surprise when I heard the backdoor clicking open and it was _not_ Manuela on the other side.

I thought my heart might have stopped beating all together, and I dropped my spoon. I heard it clamor to the floor, but was unable to comprehend anything except for the sight of my mother's crystal blue eyes staring at me in horror and surprise.

She looked...well...disheveled. Her hair was pushed flat on one side and her mascara had left a mark down her cheek, her lipstick was smeared. And the topper of it all was the fact that she was still in that same Vera Wang dress, though it didn't look near as nice and neatly pressed as it had the night before.

We stared at one another, unable to comprehend the other's presence in the room.

I hadn't wanted to see her like this, sneaking in at the crack of dawn, and I knew she didn't want to be seen like this either.

I quickly broke eye-contact with her and my eyes flew to the cereal before me, the television on the wall opposite my mom; I looked anywhere except at my mom.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her quickly shuffle towards the back stairwell; but I sensed her hesitate and unwillingly I looked back at her. "Where were you?" I asked, more surprised at myself than my mother by my question.

"That," she hissed, slipping out of her heels, "is none of your business."

And with that she gained her poise back and with all the dignity she could muster, she stomped up the stairs, away from me.

My heart pumped faster, my hands shaking. I had never, ever witnessed my mom like that before...and sneaking in so early in the morning?

~*~

The incident was not mentioned again. I knew better than to bring it up that evening as the three of us sat around the table. I had been itching to mention the episode to my sister all day, but we hadn't had a moment of free time to catch up. Though I felt that my sister knew something was up.

My mother attempted to ignore me, only glancing my way when the normal dinner conversation shifted towards me. She stared at me with what looked like fear dancing in the corners of her crystal blue eyes, and I knew she was mortified at her behavior and the fact that I had caught her.

I supposed it wouldn't have been so horrible, but I had no idea who my mother was out perusing with and it concerned me. My mother had been rather unhappy ever since her last divorce and I didn't want her hurting herself further. Even though she didn't always act like she cared about my sister and me, I cared about her.

She was an icon; she could take care of her appearance, her work, keeping up appearances at banquets, functions, fashion shows and so on, but she rarely took care of herself. Her inner self, which I knew suffered because of the hard demands of her seemingly high-maintenance life.

If she had someone, I would hope that she would share this information with us, not sneak around behind everyone's backs like I believe she was currently doing.

I happened to glance over at her for a second, and I suddenly had a quick flashback to the morning. There was something in her cheeks, her skin. She was radiant, glowing. She had been happy this morning, I just hadn't realized it.

Had she finally found someone who could make her happy?


	8. Chapter 8

Exhibit 8

Wednesday morning was the morning of the _Darling_ shoot.

Mom woke both Caroline and I up, early, so that we could get ready. When mom came into my room she let her hand gently stroke my arm until I groggily awoke and noticed her presence in my room, hovering above me. I turned on my side to glance up at her, surprised to find her staring down at me, her eyes, at least in the dark, looked caring, compassionate.

"Caroline! You'd better be out of bed or else I'm taking your phone away." My mother yelled, surprising me, for her eyes were still focused, almost lovingly, on me; her hand was still gently running up and down my arm. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Are you awake? You two have to leave in forty-five minutes."

I frowned up at her, wondering where this soft tone had come from. I nodded up at her.

Was she trying to make up for the morning before?

"All right, well get out of bed. Go brush your teeth. I'll have Manuela make your breakfast. Do you want cantaloupe or watermelon?"

"Cantaloupe," I hazily replied, sitting up in bed.

"All right. Out of bed. Let's go." And with that she disappeared out of my room.

That was the strangest interaction to date, I do believe.

~*~

Ann was standing to the side of the studio, completely wrapped up in a huge pink feather boa, overseeing her workers as they pulled together outfits. Everyone was running around, trying to get last minute details in place. No one noticed when we stepped inside the studio's doors; everyone was consumed with their tasks for the morning, but I had a feeling none of them would last long under my mother's employ. They looked entirely too lax about everything.

I pulled my Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses off my blue eyes and surveyed the scene, my sister doing the same at my side.

When everyone realized we had arrived, the running around seemed to cease and Ann moved towards us.

"Girls!" She exclaimed, leaning in to air kiss both of us. "Now which one is which?"

"I'm Caroline." My sister stuck out her hand. I was glad we looked rather different today. She had chosen skinny, bright green jeans with a striped black and white shirt complete with Chanel necklaces, and I had on Chip n' Pepper jeans with a burnt orange and white striped shirt under a cream cardigan.

Ann could very well tell us apart for now, "I'm Cassidy." I extended my hand.

"Wonderful, well let's get you over to Jason. He's going to do your make-up and then we'll get you into the clothes." She explained, giving us a once over and I knew she was picking outfits out for us with her eyes. She knew exactly what she wanted.

We were whisked away and in no time my hair was teased higher than a bad model in the 80's. My sister had some sleek, tousled look. Our outfits were absolutely ridiculous but exactly what only fashion could get away with. I wondered, briefly, if our mother would approve.

But these...costumes...were completely not anything she would ever include in _Runway_. Ann had once costumed for Broadway shows and thus she had a theatrical flair to her outfits. My sister seemed to like them well enough, and oddly, as we glanced through some takes after we'd shot for an hour, we looked good in the clothes.

Noon came all too soon and our mother was nowhere to be seen. She had promised to be there before we wrapped. She had promised Ann she would stop in and check on us, but by 12:36 it looked as if she might never show up.

However, at exactly 12:40 on the dot our mother made her entrance. Everyone seemed to lose their mind when mom stepped inside the studio. The gays fawned over her, and everyone else just stared at her in awe.

I studied her from my spot in front of the camera and realized that she looked vaguely distracted.

She exchanged some brief words with Ann before crossing her arms over her chest and watching as we took photos. I began to get uneasy under her scrutinizing glare, but I held it together.

Besides something seemed off about her. She looked more ruffled that she had this morning, as if she'd just been pulling her hair out at work while rolling around on the floor. Her hair was slightly unkempt and her cardigan under her tan trench coat looked rather tangled. Though on the outside she was the picture of perfection. No one noticed these oddities except me.

When we were told to go change into the last set of clothes, mom came over to us.

"Who let you wear your hair like this?" She asked, mindlessly running her hand through my hairspray laden hair, silently disapproving.

"It was the look they were going for." I exclaimed, slipping out of the pants they had put me in. One of the workers handed over a bright pink and green stripped mini-skirt and some purple tights to go with. My mother pursed her lips. She hated it, but she wouldn't say anything. I grinned in her direction, knowing she was quietly disapproving of every piece of clothing in the room. "Why were you late?" I whispered in her direction and she fixed me with quite the glare.

"A meeting came up." _Lies_.

She was lying again. Normally everything was clear when it came to my sister and I. She had hardly ever been late to any of our events or appointments, but here she was lying about a meeting.

And then I noticed her lipstick looked rather...well smeared?

Oh. My. God.

Who was she carrying this relationship on with? Why was she hiding it from us?

I just nodded in her direction and followed my sister back to the now pale grey background in front of the camera.

~*~

After one last set of photographs Ann thanked us profusely and then we headed out behind our mother.

She seemed distracted and was busy typing away on her blackberry. "Well girls, you had better get to Dalton so that you can finish the rest of the day."

"Aw, mom. Can't we go get some food or something?" Caroline whined, which usually _never_ worked on my mom, but instead she nodded.

"Where?" She asked, almost surprised by her own response.

"212?" I quickly suggested, realizing that sushi sounded really good right now.

This was so weird! We never just had lunch with our mom. This moment was actually quite cool.

"Fukumatsu?" Our mom frowned.

"Yes." I nodded and she nodded her approval. We all slipped into the back of her town car, Roy saying his 'hello' to us as our mom dialed her office, barking orders to one of her assistants, instructing her to clear her another hour.

Caroline and I exchanged excited grins. The only other time this had happened on such short notice had been when Caroline had broken her arm and mom had cleared her afternoon so we could go out to eat after Caroline got her cast put on. It had been ages.

As soon as mom hung up her phone, she began rapidly texting someone. I did hope this texting would end so we could all enjoy one another at the restaurant.

When we got to 212 Fukumatsu, we were seated in the back, away from the viewing public. However, we were not missed by the paparazzi that had somehow found us in the front. It surprised me to no end that people were actually paid to go trapezing through the city and snap pictures of people doing normal, everyday, mundane things such as going out to eat. No doubt there would be an article in Page Six tomorrow, detailing our lunch with our mother.

Mom continued to text as we ordered our drinks, and then put her phone away, knowing that she would not want either of us texting. She seemed, on the outside, busy and preoccupied with work, but in the car I'd noticed her smirk one too many times at the texts someone was sending her to know that it was not work related at all. I would bet quite a bit that the person on the other end was her secret lover.

I wished I could just outright ask her who it was, but I knew she wouldn't say.

She would undoubtedly not tell us until it was about to come out in the papers and then she'd break it to us as if we had no idea she was carrying on like this.

But there was something different about this affair. She had never looked so happy about having someone else. Not since...well...ever really.

Sushi was ordered and we fell into a nice chat about a huge event that was coming up several weeks from now. Caroline and I had been asked to a huge soiree the following weekend. We had a feeling that dad wouldn't come get us, so it was safe to accept the invitation and go.

Our busy social calendar rarely left us time to sit and dawdle and I believe that our mother liked it that way. She liked when we were busy; and perhaps now she liked it even more because she had her own private affair to attend to.

In a stroke of genius, I brought up the whole secret affair in a roundabout way. "Hey, Care, are you still with Mark?" I asked, my finger running around the rim of my water glass.

Caroline glanced up from her sushi and frowned at me. "No, we broke up last week." She shrugged. I knew that my sister was never serious about her boyfriends. They came and went like the newest trends. One day they were in, the next day they were out.

Our mother perked up at the sound of this conversation, clearly having never heard anything about Mark. She never really asked about our personal lives.

"What about Graham, Cass, how is he?" Caroline retorted, swirling her eel roll in soy sauce.

"Graham is gay. We are not dating." I stuck my tongue out at her and glanced sideways at my mother to see her reaction.

She raised her eyebrow slightly, but other than that she did not react to my declamation about Graham's sexuality.

"Is Graham the boy who came...last weekend?" She asked, attempting to sound interested.

"Yes, he's the one whose mother used to work in Florida and then she got a job transfer to an ER up here in New York, but she's never around."

My mother's eye-widened and she nodded her head, perplexed by the fact that I had just divulged too many details. She could care less about Graham's mother. Turning to Caroline, she frowned, "I don't like you 'dating' boys. You're too young."

"Oh, mom. I'm not like serious, serious about boys." Caroline rolled her eyes and I stifled a laugh. When my sister was 'dating' a boy she was all about said boy, completely obsessed.

"Good. Boys want one thing and one thing only and you should never let them have it." Our mom pointed her chopsticks in my sister's direction and Caroline raised her eyebrows in surprise that my mother was giving her this unsolicited advice. "They're utterly good for nothing." Our mother added under her breath.

Caroline and I exchanged a look and then quickly went back to eating.

"How about you, mom. Anyone of interest?" I asked, attempting to sound cool, calm, and casual.

Caroline shoved her foot against my shin under the table and I suppressed the urge to yelp.

A quick look of terror flashed behind my mother's calm, blue eyes and she stalled by dabbing the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "Not at this time, no."

_Lies_.

All she did was lie about it, all the time. "What about the other morning, when you came-"

"We will not discuss that morning, Cassidy." My mother tossed down her chopsticks. She was ready to leave, to escape this discussion. She waved a waiter down and handed him her card.

Caroline and I fell immediately silent and no words were exchanged for the rest of our tenure at 212 Fukumatsu.

~*~

"What was with mom at the restaurant and what happened the other morning'?" Caroline immediately asked when we were safely inside the townhouse and our mom was driving back to work.

"Well...I was up early the other morning and...remember how we watched mom get ready that one night and she had that Vera Wang dress on....well the other morning she came through the back door wearing that same dress."

"So..." Caroline wasn't quite following.

"So." I willed her to come to my line of thinking, but she did not.

"So, she was out fucking some guy. What's the big deal?" Caroline shrugged, dropping her purse on the huge mahogany table near the newly cut fresh flowers in a vase and headed towards the kitchen and to the back stairway.

"It is a big deal, she wouldn't acknowledge it or talk about it and she's been sneaking around with whoever this is. Normally she goes out on dates, but remember that night she didn't leave with anyone. Usually the guy always picks her up here." I was rambling, but the pieces were beginning to fall together in my brain.

"Well, maybe she's fucking a woman. Who knows?" Caroline sounded uninterested. Still.

And then it dawned on me. "I think she is. Oh. My. God."

And that got my sister's attention. "Who would she be secretly fucking that's female?"

"Um...maybe..." I had no idea who it...or maybe I did. "Andy Sachs."

"What?" My sister turned around and looked at me like I was crazy. "No fucking way. Absolutely not. Mom would never fuck her."

"But I mean it's so obvious."

"How?" Caroline wanted facts.

"Well...I caught mom reading an article Andy had written." I proudly stated and my sister just stared at me like I was mentally challenged.

"That means absolutely nothing, Cassidy." She turned again and walked into her room; we had somehow made it to the fourth floor and I didn't recall the arduous climb at all.

"Well why would she subscribe to _The New York Mirror_ then if not to see Andy's article?" I knew my defense was weak.

"Maybe she wants to catch up on the hardcore news here in New York; there are plenty of other explanations, Cass." Caroline sighed, opening up her laptop.

"Oh, okay...well remember that bracelet? The one I found in the backseat of her car?"

Caroline frowned, vaguely recalling the bracelet that had become the center of our dinner one evening. "Yes, what about it?"

"It belongs to Andy." The words exited my mouth before I suddenly realized I'd pieced that little bit of evidence together unconsciously.

"You can't prove that." Caroline was still not convinced.

But then I got it. "Yes I can." I raced down a flight of stairs and into my room. My MacBook was open and I touched it to bring it back to life.

I turned to take it to my sister, but I found she'd followed me down the stairs. So I sat down on my bed and she followed suit. I pulled up my picture files and began clicking through until I came to the picture of Andy with her son. There, on her left wrist, was a silver looking bracelet.

"That's not really like the same one though..." Caroline marveled at the picture.

I quickly sectioned off the wrist area and enlarged just that part of the picture. And then I knew. It was the exact same bracelet.

"Well...so. Maybe she like...gave her a ride, or something." But even Caroline was running out of excuses for our mother.

We sat in silence for several moments, contemplating what to do next.

"Well...we don't know. I mean..."

"We shouldn't..."

"Yeah because then she'd..."

"And we don't..."

"So we'll just...

"Um...yeah."

We looked at one another again and frowned.

"But she has a baby."

"He's not really a baby."

"Well no, but..."

"And she's engaged..."

"I know, but that doesn't..."

"Well, I know, but..."

"I still don't know."

"Me either."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."


	9. Chapter 9

Exhibit 9

Friday night completely cemented the theory:

My mother was slated to be at an auction event, and my sister and I were supposed to be at an Upper East Side Soiree, but I hadn't felt well and at the last minute let my sister go while I stayed home. I just hadn't felt like getting dressed up and I had a _ton_ of homework. Dalton was keeping me far too busy, and I no longer allowed my mother to call one of her assistants in to help. I'd found out, at around the age of 12, that I was already smarter than half of them, and since then I liked to take the workload on myself.

So I decided to hole up in my room, blast some music, and work so I could perhaps have Sunday afternoon free to attend a luncheon at my friend Lexi's house.

As I finished a chapter in my history text, I decided I was hungry and needed a little snack.

But, as I stepped down the front stairs, I gradually began to hear voices. They seemed to be coming from the ground level. One sounded as if it belonged to a young child and the other sounded like....

...my mother?

My heart gradually went from thumping loudly in my ears, to an even pounding. I had thought for a moment that perhaps a burglary was occurring at this moment, but upon hearing my mother's voice in the kitchen I slowly began to relax.

But who was this young child with her?

I snaked my way down the rest of the stairs, trying not to make any noise.

When I made it to the wooden floors in the front hallway, I peered into the kitchen and noticed the back of my mother's head and beside her sat a curly haired little boy...

...Max?

I found myself moving forward, straining to hear whatever they were saying. They had fallen silent for the moment and I could tell from my position that my mother was writing notes in "The Book" and Max was coloring.

Why was he here? Why was Andy's son here?

This just made the claim that my mother was with Andy an even bigger probability.

"Me-anda?" It was Max...he couldn't quite formulate my mother's name and if this situation hadn't been so weird, it might have been quite cute.

"Yes, Maxwell." My mother responded, licking her finger to gently turn the page of "The Book". She did not acknowledge Max as she did so, and just appeared to continue reading.

"When is mommy come?" Max looked over at her, his feet kicking noisily against the barstool.

"She'll be here in a little while." My mother assured him.

I was completely shocked, floored. Max was here with my mother and Andy was on her way over?

Why was she coming....why was he here? I was so confused.

And just at that moment I stepped on a squeaky floorboard and my mother shot around, her eyes meeting mine instantly.

"Cassidy, why aren't you at the..." Her voice trailed off, and I could sense Max staring apprehensively from my mother to me.

"Why is he here?" I asked, completely baffled.

"That is not really _your_ concern." My mother accented each of her words, making it sound like she was saying each in its own sentence.

I raised my eyebrows, floored by my mother's response.

"You're sleeping with her, aren't you?" I found myself saying before I could censor myself.

"Cassidy Sage Van Ziegler." My mother's tone was strained, she was shocked and angry.

"No, mom. I want answers!" I screamed.

"Not right now, Cassidy." Miranda narrowed her eyes.

And it was then that the front door unlocked and in walked the one person I was not ready to see. Her hair was messy, tears stained her cheeks, fresh ones were welling in her eyes. She was clothed in a loosely buttoned trench coat, skinny black pants, heels and a horrendous scarf. She looked terrible.

"Cassidy, take Max upstairs." My mother's voice had a hint of warning in it and I knew she was in no mood to be crossed.

I reluctantly complied, knowing that even I didn't want Max seeing his mom like this.

"Mommy!" He called as I helped him out of his seat. He tried to run to her, but I snatched him up, gave my mother a glare and then carried the screaming, kicking child up the backstairs.

So it was true. My mother was sleeping with Andy. And it looked like it was quite serious...

~*~

After I successfully distracted Max with the Wii in our game room, I told him I was going to the bathroom. He didn't quite respond, and so I slipped out and moved towards the stairwell, wanting to know what was happening.

I could hear voices coming from the third floor balcony. Knowing how to spy without being caught, I peered over the edge where I could make them out but they could not see me. There they were, sitting dangerously close to one another on the couch.

My mother was holding Andy's hand and staring blankly at the coffee table before them.

"I can't believe I did it," Andy whispered.

"It was good for you. You cannot tell me you were happy with him." My mother responded.

Andy let out a pathetic laugh. "After you, no I wasn't happy with him. How could I have been?" Andy turned to my mother and pressed her lips against my mother's neck. I watched as my mother's eyes closed in ecstasy.

I grimaced and closed my own eyes. This I could do without seeing.

"I just don't know how I can do this with Max, I mean..."

"Andrea, you have been dragging him to Boston every other weekend to see his dad. It won't be any different." My mother was well adept at split-parenting.

"But I have no financial ties to Nate, he could refuse to give child support; he threatened he wouldn't pay." Andy's voice was cracking with new tears.

"I'll see to it that that DOES NOT happen." My mother assured her.

I watched as Andy nodded, completely docile, and passive in my mother's embrace. She looked weary and tired of crying. "I want to see Max." Andy sat up, wiping at her eyes.

"Are you sure?" My mom inquired, looking at Andy, who nodded. My mother sorted Andy's hair out, pressed a quick kiss to her lips, and then told her where she could most likely find Max.

I realized Andy was coming my way and before I could move to race back to the game room, she saw me. As did my mother.

"Come here Cassidy." My mother blankly called to me.

Andy and I brushed silently past each other on the stairs.

It was so surreal.

It had not become real until just now and I realized that my mother was absolutely in love with this _woman_.

This was so weird.

My mother patted the spot beside her. I obediently sat.

"I didn't," my mother stopped, seeming to formulate a worthy explanation. "I didn't think you, or your sister would accept the fact that I have been seeing my ex-employee. I was uncertain where it was going and I didn't want to drag you in until it was more concrete." She offered as her excuse and I just nodded.

I was at a loss for words.

My mother sat quietly beside me.

"I just need..." My own words surprised me. "Time."

My mother was agreeing, her head nodding, her eyes closing. Did she think I was disappointed in her?

When she offered no other words I took in a deep breath and sighed. "I think she should...and Max...should stay. I don't think...I don't feel they should go to their...home." I offered, figuring it wouldn't be all that awful. Not any more awful than having one of my mother's normal, boring men around.

At least Andy was...all right.

My mother's nodding turned into a surprised look in my direction. But the surprise was quickly erased and replaced with a slight smile. "Can you help Maxwell find a room?"

I nodded, leaving my mother, needing to get away.

But I only realized that by getting away from her, I was moving to Andy. Andy and Max were cuddled on the couch in the game room, Andy tiredly attempting to play Wii. Max looked sleepy.

When she saw me in the doorway she startled and sat up. "I'm really sorry, Cassidy. I had no idea you were..."

"It's all right. Whatever." I shrugged. "Mom wants me to help find a room for Max."

"Oh, we can go home, it's not...I don't want to intrude, I mean..."

"No, it's okay." I shrugged. "There's a room on the fifth floor, if you want to bring Max up." I offered, waiting for her to follow after me.

We walked silently up the two flights of stairs, Andy carrying her nearly sleeping son. He easily snuggled into the cream colored sheets of the guestroom and fell into a deep sleep. Andy kissed his forehead and then moved from her spot on the bed. She brushed past me as she left the room and whispered, "Thank you."

I numbly nodded, still not entirely sure what was happening.

~*~

When Caroline came stumbling into my room at one that morning, I was glad I hadn't gone to the soiree.

"Hey, you missed out." She slurred.

"Sure I did. Sit down." I helped her onto my bed. "Hey," I snapped in her face, getting her to look at me.

"What?" She mumbled.

I moved to my bathroom, getting her a glass of water. "Guess who's here?"

"What? Who?" She distractedly answered.

"Max. And Andy." I said, handing her the glass.

She frowned at me as if she couldn't understand what I was saying.

"Here?"

"Yes, here."

"Why?"

"I have no idea. But my theory is very, very true. Mom is sleeping with Andy."

"Fuck!" Caroline nearly spat the water out of her mouth.

"I know." I nodded.


	10. Chapter 10

I am soooooo sorrry I never posted this last chapter. I completely forgot about apparently and just posted it over at Passion Perfect on livejournal. Please forgive me. I will post it now for your very late enjoyment! So sorry again.

Exhibit 10

The case was cracked, but it still had to be clarified and details had to be obtained.

In typical fashion mom called a family meeting the following evening. She cleared her schedule, made sure we were both free, and then took us out to DANIEL. We sat around a round table covered in a white tablecloth, all seemingly tongue-tied, for we all knew why we were there, it was just that no one wanted to begin the conversation.

Mother fidgeted; she typed out a message on her blackberry and then set it aside.

She sipped her water, seemingly avoiding the topic she had brought us here to discuss. After I shot a quick look at my sister, our mother finally gave in and began talking.

"I don't want to hear about why you object to it, because frankly it's going to happen regardless of how you feel," She was defensive, and this was not at all the way I thought the conversation would begin.

"Mom," Caroline cut in, but mom cut her off.

"I have been seeing Andrea for the past month. We've only just recently become acquainted with one another again and now that she is not under my employ we began a relationship of sorts." They were so sleeping together before this, _oh my God_. Were they having an affair while Andy had worked for mom? How had I missed that?

"Mom, we don't care that you're screwing a chick." Caroline uncouthly stated before our mother could go on. Our mother, who normally looked so cool and calm and collected, was now actually fidgeting and looking downright uncomfortable about having to tell us this.

"Caroline, please lower your voice," Mother glanced around, seeming to see if the other patrons around us had heard my sister's rather loud statement. After she was sure they had not, she turned back to my sister, "and please, do not use such vulgar language."

"But mom, really," I added, "we don't care."

"Yeah, you seem happy," Caroline quickly chimed in.

"Exactly, you're happy, except I think you're not happy that you have to sneak around, you know?" I nodded.

Our mother looked from Caroline to me and then back and then back again, as if we were strangers, people she'd never met before.

"Are you telling me, that you are not angry, or hurt, or sad that I have taken a woman as a lover?" She questioned, disbelief lacing the edge of her voice.

"Not at all," I shook my head, finding that I was actually relieved that our mother had finally chosen someone more appropriate. Having another woman around the house might be fun.

"Yeah, mom. I mean I've dated a couple of girls." Caroline added, sipping her water casually.

It was our mother's turn to look mortified, "what?"

"I mean…" Caroline quickly tried to backtrack.

But our mother's features suddenly softened and she looked at Caroline with a renewed compassion. "I had no idea I had such forward thinking daughter's." She looked completely baffled and yet somehow relieved. "Well, then. That's that."

And that was how we officially found out. And also how I officially found out that the rumor around the school about my sister and other girls was true.

It took exactly six months and fifteen days for my mother to finally work up the courage to ask Andrea to move in to our spacious abode. And those six months and fifteen days were like shear agony for our mother. Every day that she did not wake up next to Andy was a torturous day. She would wallow over breakfast, and her comments were very direct and sharp and I knew that those around her at work would be paying some heinous price for our mother's lack of contact with her younger lover.

My sister and I could always tell the days that Andy had not stayed over. Our mother was very tense during dinner, checking her phone repeatedly, waiting for Andy to call her, to tell her she would come over, or even just talk to her.

Of course Max made the whole situation even more complex. He was only ever gone on the weekends, as were my sister and I -albeit occasionally- and so our mother had to respect that Andy's time with her son sometimes needed more work than their relationship. And until they moved in, Max was not entirely comfortable with the idea of going to "Miranda's house for a sleepover." And his school was across town, and there were many, MANY roadblocks to my mother's secret affair with her once upon a time assistant.

And so our mother put her foot down, hating to see Andy having to chose between tending to her son and tending to our mom's needs, and so she made her move in. Okay maybe not made her, but they decided it made the most sense.

And slowly our family began to meld together.

I had no idea that one little boy could completely change my sister.

The day Max moved in was the day my sister quite sneaking out. Instead she snuck in.

After retrieving some tea from the kitchen, for I was running low from a late night study session for my French course, I slowly crept up the back staircase. I passed by my mother's closed bedroom door and I could have sworn I heard my mother call out a faint, "Andrea!"

I cringed at the noise and hurried on, realizing that for the first time in a long time she was at least actually in bed before 11 and not still working in her study.

As I headed up the stairs towards my bedroom, I noticed that my sister's room's door was open, but there was no sign of her existence in the room. As I passed by my own room, I decided to continue on up the stairs. I wanted to see where my sister might have ventured off to. After giving her room a once over, I heard whispered voices up on the fourth floor. Quietly I tip-toed up the stairs and headed towards the dark blue room with glow-in-the-dark stars painted on the walls. Max's new room.

As I neared the room, I saw what looked like a flashlight playing beneath a blanket made tent that had been built in the middle of the room. The exact same tent my sister and I had made when we were younger, when our mother was gone to events and we wanted to entertain ourselves late at night.

I crept to the opening of the tent and quickly made my presence known.

"Cassidy! You scared me!" Caroline nearly screamed when I pulled the blanket to the side.

I just grinned at her and then patted Max on the head, "hey buddy. Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"I couldn't sleep." He said, looking all business and no play.

"Come join us," Caroline patted the spot beside her. After I'd slipped inside the warm blanket tent, my sister explained herself. "He couldn't sleep, I came up to read to him."

"And you ended up in a tent." I laughed.

"I like sleepovers at Miranda's house." Max grinned at us, his deep brown eyes nearly melting me to the spot.

I knew my sister was equally hooked, and for some reason that little boy changed my sister.

And that was how the case was cracked.

Our mother's hidden love surfaced and she'd never been happier. I could feel it when she hugged me, the way she greeted me, talked to me, it had all changed because of Andy. Gone was the tenseness, the anger that she had been holding in, the sadness she always seemed to carry. It was all erased when I caught them tenderly kissing in the kitchen when they thought no one was watching. It vanished during the night when Andy was the one who occupied the other side of my mother's bed.

Life could not have been better. For all of us.

And how suiting that we would all end up on a blistery summer day in the park.

My sister was running around, chasing after Max. I was busy taking pictures. Pictures of my sister grabbing Max, wrestling him gently to the ground. Pictures of my mother with her arms wrapped tightly around Andy as they bathed in the half-sun, half-shadow of a tree.

I caught them in a passionate kiss, and mother quickly shot me a warning glance, daring me to take another picture. Which I did.

I realized, as I turned to shot pictures of the tree line with the city in the background, I realized that out of all the people my mother had loved, this love was the perfect love.

Case closed.


End file.
